SNAFU is my long look at everyday life in America. Realized as sixty-six handmade books and a field guide, it gathers fragments of the ordinary and the absurd, tracing the shifting textures of daily existence across time and place. Grounded in the American social-documentary tradition yet reaching toward a Whitman-esque embrace of contradiction, I accept fragmentation as a form of wholeness—a mirror to the American condition itself. Like Leaves of Grass, it evolves over time, gathering multitudes: clarity and confusion, humor and grief, beauty and ruin.
Photographs, in rhythm, become a visual poem—a handmade book. SNAFU becomes both object and document, a living archive shaped by attention and touch. It is an ongoing experiment in photographic form, and a record of looking—and of being looked back at by the world.